


Angry

by AmaliaIR



Series: Drabbles [30]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nottpott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 06:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaliaIR/pseuds/AmaliaIR





	Angry

The do-over seventh year was turning out to be such a wild ride. Harry could have never imagined that a regular year at Hogwarts could surprise him anymore, not after what he’d been through in the past, but he was wrong. He could maybe explain it by the abcense of fear and threat he and others had always felt thanks to Voldemort, even when he was thought to be dead. They were finally living in complete safety and it showed; the celebratory atmosphere hadn’t died down all school year and it was near March by now. Harry had attended countless meetings, parties, dinners, even midnight picnics on the school grounds where half the staff ended up drunk and singing around a bonfire.

But still Harry couldn’t really figure out how he felt. 

He was supposed to be happy, as happy as he had ever been allowed to feel giving the circumstances of his upbringing, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not right.

And it was horrible feeling that way when everywhere he went he saw nothing but joy. Even the Slytherins, hell, even Malfoy was usually in a great mood and it just made Harry angrier.

Well, maybe there was just one more person who wasn’t like that.

It was easy to notice when you’re the only two people not smiling all the time, or when you walk out of a party and he’s the only one wandering the corridors alone. Sometimes they would lock eyes across the great hall and Harry could tell he was being noticed too and his curiosity grew tenfold. 

Harry didn’t know much about Theodore Nott, but he knew he was not happy.

Tonight was another night full of drunken celebration.The whole castle was alive; a party in every common room, secret and more exclusive parties in places like the Shrieking Shack or the Room of Requierment, and some definitely private hookups in various classrooms and broom cupboards. Harry had already been to Hufflepuff’s and Ravenclaw’s parties, thinking he’d leave Gryffindor’s for last since his bed was nearby anyway, and he was in no mood to fight the Whomping Willow or figure out tonight’s special theme to get into the Room of Requirement, so he walked aimlessly through the halls while sipping a firewhiskey and letting his feet take him wherever they wanted to go.

He wanted to meet up with Ron or Hermione but he had no idea where they were at this point. He soon realized he was near the entrance to the dungeons and stopped. It was possible that at least one of them was at the Slytherins’ party, since they were usually pretty good and Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships had been increasingly improving, so Harry thought it worth it to check it out. Deep down, he knew there might be another reason he wanted to go to the dungeons, but he wsn’t ready to admit it yet.

As usual, it was very dark and humid down there, which wasn’t helped by the fact that a lot of people were dancing in the middle of the room and they seemed to be really sweaty. Harry wasn’t in the mood for dancing either. There was also a makeshift bar at the back wall, where someone he didn’t recognize was magically mixing drinks and trying to impress a group of giggling girls. He tried to spot a wild mane of hair or a tall redhead towering over most but it looked like they weren’t there either.

Many people greeted Harry and offered to get him a drink, but he still had most of his firewhiskey. A few younger students asked to take a photograph with him and Harry complied mostly to get them to stop, because him getting attention was the perfect way to summon Malfoy and then Harry would never hear the end of it.

It was only after he’d taken all the photos that he spotted Malfoy laying unconscious over the pool table. He wouldn’t mind getting his picture next to that.

Harry wasn’t able to find anyone he wanted to see, so he was about to leave to his dormitory and sulk for the rest of the night when he noticed a group of people sitting in the darkest corner of the room. He slowly approached them because he couldn’t really see their faces even though they were all facing him. Well, all except for one, who had his back to Harry and seemed to be the centre of attention as he spoke, the rest listening in eerie silence.

Suddenly very curious as to why this morose-looking group of people were ignoring a wild party in favor of hearing someone talk, he shuffled closer and closer, trying not to get noticed. 

“And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations,” the boy said, and the silence in that corner was even heavier than before. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. 

A small girl who couldn’t have been older than fourteen gulped. “That was the last thing you said to your father before he died?”

The boy nodded and in that moment Harry took a final step to be able to look at him from the side, his heart beating in anticipation because he should have known.

It was him. It was Theodore Nott. 

Unfortunately, Harry was noticed, and most of the people surrounding him (all of which looked to be to younger students) stiffened when they saw him. Nott looked over his shoulder and he and Harry shared what could only be described as a challenging look. Harry wasn’t usually angry when he and Nott exchanged glances across the great hall or during classes, but now he was feeling increasingly infuriated. Sharing the tragic details of his life in order to impress young kids? That was as dramatically Slytherin-ish as he had seen and yet, completely pathetic. 

The other students felt the tension get higher and began to leave only to stand a bit further away, probably thinking there’ll be a fight.

Nott got to his feet, not taking his eyes off Harry, who up until now never had an opportunity to look at Nott in so much detail, and he was surprised to find him rather handsome. His dark hair was shadowing his features under the low light, but it was still clear he had those fancy, pure-blood good looks and self-righteous expression Harry was so familiar with. 

And for a brief but chilling moment, he even reminded Harry of young Tom Riddle, only with blue eyes.

He needed more alcohol. 

“Is that the only way you know how to get girls?” Harry asked in a mocking tone, not really sure where it had come from. He hadn’t planned on starting off this way. 

Nott seemed taken aback. “What?” 

“I asked,” Harry repeated, feeling something daring bubbling inside him. “If getting girls to feel pity for you is the only way you can get their attention.”

With a scoff, Nott took a step closer, but Harry didn’t back down and now they were face to face. He realized for the first time that they were exactly the same height, or at least that was what his tired and slightly inhibriated brain could perceive. For some reason, this made Harry even more upset.

“What the fuck are you on about, Potter? You come to our common room to pick up a fight? I never pegged you for a bully.” Nott crossed his arms over his chest.

“And I never pegged you for someone who would use his ‘sad’ life to impress girls.”

“Will you cool it with the girls? Most of the people I was talking to were boys.” he lowered his voice for this and Harry couldn’t figure out why. "And you think you’re the only one who has a right to talk about the war? They asked me about it.“

Harry could feel his blood heating up. “And you just had to tell them about your death eater daddy and how hard it was for you to know he murdered innocent people? Poor Theodore Nott.”

Nott looked like he couldn’t believe his ears and granted, Harry knew it wasn’t in character for him to jump on someone this way, but he was just so tired of all the purebloods now pretending they gave a shit about the rest, of all the lies he’d heard about the war, of all the hypocrisy and fake apologies and disappointments.

Surprisingly, Nott backed down, but seemed to be even more enraged than before. “Fuck you. Of all the people partying and not giving a shit you come and pick a fight with me? Fuck. You.”

And then he stormed off. 

Some remained watching Harry curiously, but he didn’t care and left his glass on a table before following Nott out of the common room. He was just around the corner when Harry caught up with him, and Harry tried not to be too loud when he called out his name. 

“Nott!” 

Nott spun around and shushed him. “Do you think we’re in the bloody Quidditch pitch?” 

“What did you mean when you said ‘out of all the others’?” Harry asked before he even reached him. “What’s so special about you?” 

In the light of the corridor it was easier to see how upset Nott really was, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight, making him look years older than an eighteen years old boy. Just like Harry. 

“Unlike you and all the other idiots, I’m not drunk off my ass every hour of the day. And I don’t party as if life was one big fucking celebration orgy!” he threw his arms in the air angrily. “You want to fuck with me just because I’m not a fucking bundle of joy?”

Harry could tell his own anger was fading a bit, replaced by the curiosity he had had for a while. “Yeah? And why aren’t you?” 

Nott laughed coldly. “Harry Potter needs to make everybody happy? I wonder if it’s because you truly care, or because you think you’re the only one allowed to feel miserable.”

Harry hadn’t expected that and Nott knew it. “You don’t have to think I’ve noticed? You’re not happy-drinking like those morons. You’re angry-drinking.”

“So?“ Harry asked. "Why do you care?” 

Nott shrugged. “I don’t. I just thought you’d appreciate someone else who didn’t think the world is suddenly perfect.”

“How do you know it isn’t?” Harry didn’t mean for the question to sound so genuine, but he really did want to know. He couldn’t prove that things wouldn’t be great now that Voldemort was gone and perhaps everyone else was right and he wasn’t. 

“Because I grew up with death eater. You think just because the worst of them are dead or caught the movement is worthless now? Their beliefs are still out there and sooner or later someone else will rise up and start another war.” Nott leaned against a wall. “These kids ask about the war and everyone tells them about the heroes, but I can’t stand by and not let them know how dangerous men like my father actually were. Nobody wants to talk about the ugly things once you win a war.”

Harry stood there, blinking and letting Nott’s words sink in. Nott wasn’t looking at him, but at his own feet. Harry wondered if this is what he looked like to everyone else, angry and dramatic and miserable even though there was nothing clearly bad going on anymore. 

“Is that why you look so down all the time?” he asked Nott, his voice quiet in the empty corridor. 

Nott looked up, his expression softer. “Well yes. Isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t going through a war be enough for all of us? Plus my asshole of a father fucking died and-” 

“Of course it’s enough,” Harry interrupted him. No one had told Harry that they deserved to feel bad. That they had reasons for it. That it was okay not to feel happy. 

“Right.” Nott nodded. “So sorry if your heroic sacrifice didn’t make everyone merry and shit. But it didn’t work on yourself either, did it?” 

Harry shook his head softly, no longer upset even though his heart kept racing. “Still… There must be something that makes you glad.” Because if course Harry had things to smile about. He had wonderful friends who always stood by him, he was finally living peacefully in a place where he belonged, he had done reasonably well in his N.E.W.T.S, and… 

Nott rolled his eyes. “It’s alright, Potter. You don’t have to keep trying to save literally everyone. I’m fine. Just because I can’t think of anything right now-” 

Nott cut himself off and for a second Harry couldn’t understand why, but then he realized that he had unconsciously stepped closer and closer to Nott, and now he was basically trapped between Harry and the wall and Harry felt his whole body flush with embarrassment. But it didn’t escape his notice that he wasn’t being pushed away. 

Nott didn’t speak, but his eyes questioned Harry. What are you doing? 

Harry wasn’t sure, but for a while now he’d had the feeling that Nott understood him, so he thought he would also understand this. 

Harry leaned in and kissed him, feeling immediate relief when their lips touched and he realized this is what he had needed for so long. His entire body felt lighter, his head clearer, the perpetual knot in his throat loosened, and he clung to the moment as much as he could by gripping Nott’s t-shirt, longing to feel his skin or hair but not sure if he should push it that far. 

Nott kissed back slow and shyly, like out of instinct more than anything, but Harry didn’t mind, he’d take anything he wanted to give him because this was like finally breathing after choking on something he could never identify. So it didn’t matter that Nott didn’t pull Harry closer, or shoved his tongue down his throat desperately, Harry just wanted every second of this because he knew it wouldn’t last; they were just two disgrunted boys finding some comfort in their shared feelings.

Harry’s heart sped up when he felt Nott reach up and put a hand on the back of Harry’s head, as careful and gentle as if he was holding something that would break, and it took everything in Harry’s power not to sigh contently into Nott’s mouth. 

But then in ended and Nott pulled away, still moving slowly and almost politely, as if he was afriad Harry would get mad if he rejected him. The thought made Harry’s anger peek its ugly head in again. Thankfully, being pressed up against Nott, with his fingers still touching the nape of Harry’s neck was doing wonders for keeping him calm.

They looked at each other for a few long seconds, and just when Harry was going to step away, bid him goodnight, and stomp to his bed, Nott opened his mouth and Harry’s eyes were drawn to it again.

“I just…” he hesitated, looking unsure. “You’re drunk.”

Harry frowned. “What?”

Nott’s cheeks seemed to redden a bit, and Harry thought he looked absolutely gorgeous like that. “I don’t want to do this if you’re drunk.”

“I’m not kissing you because I’m drunk,” Harry said, hoping his breath didn’t smell too strongly of firewhiskey. “I’m kissing you because…” he trailed off, looking down at Nott’s lips again, gripping his t-shirt even more tightly, and pressing his body against him just a little bit more, trying not to get overly excited as he did so. “Because I’m angry.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Nott smiled. Harry was certain he had never seen a smile with so much behind it, because it was clear that Nott understood exactly what Harry meant. Again.

Nott stepped away, carefully extricating himself from Harry, but still smiling. Harry wanted to groan at the loss of body heat. 

“Then, if you’re still angry tomorrow, find me.” He took a few steps back towards the entrance of the Slytherin common room. “And we can do angry things together.”

Harry smiled too, feeling silly. It wasn’t as though anything had changed, he was still bitter and confused, everyone else continued to party carelessly, and Nott’s words about the death eaters should have made him feel worse, not better. The world wasn’t a better or safer place just because he impulsively decided to kiss Theodore Nott.

And yet.

Maybe disgrunted boys finding comfort in each other’s shared feelings wasn’t a tragedy. Maybe it was their shortcut to happiness.

And maybe they deserved it.


End file.
